Like the dwarves, Mithrellas lost her home and family to the inferno all those years ago. Unlike them, she's not so eager to venture to the Lonely Mountain. She's haunted by the life taken from her too early. Knowing she needs to overcome her heartb...
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Near the Shire, 2941 of the Third Age
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Mithrellas sighed heavily. She had been forced to reveal her presence to her charge, Thorin Oakenshield.
He had just crossed into the Barrow Downs outside of the Shire from meeting with some of his kin. It was a risky stretch of the wild. Barrow-dwellers, the nasty spirits who inhabited the land, preferred to hold their prey in capture before slaughtering them. Mithrellas also knew that the remaining Wights liked to stir in the dark. Nasty creatures, Wights.
Therefore, since they had no time to delay and she had been tasked to ensure the prince's survival, the ranger elected to guide the one she was supposed to be following.
Gandalf had assured his elven friend that the dwarf prince would come around to the idea of Mithrellas assisting him. Gandalf had advised her to explain in a calm voice that she was 'simply under the wizard's orders and the situation would be remedied. Thorin was a prince afterall, he had manners'.
"Thank you very much, Mithrellas my dear," Gandalf had added on with a charming smile.
She was now questioning every word the grey wizard had ever let her believe to be true.
Thorin Oakenshield had positively spat and snarled like a cornered wildcat at the mere suggestion Mithrellas - an elf - lead him - a dwarf - to Bag End. He paced in front of her out in the open, forgetting about the fact that she had been following him for some weeks. He had grumbled and groused until the shadows began to lengthen; claiming that he was perfectly capable of taking himself to Bag End in time and in one piece.
'No manners of a prince to be seen....Thank you very much, dear wizard,' Mithrellas thought to herself with a frown.
If calm explanations and words would not work, then Mithrellas knew exactly what tactic to use on the stubborn dwarf.
"It is no matter to me, Master Oakenshield. The rest of your kin will think that you chose to abandon this crusade. Without me to guide you through the downs, you will arrive long after they have adjourned their meeting; if you arrive at all," Mithrellas explained to the seething prince.
He had no response for the golden-haired and annoying she-elf in front of him. He glared over at her, the sight of her swishing cloak fueling his anger as she passed him.
"Very well then, I will carry on to where I wish. Companying stubborn dwarf princes are hardly the most important things I have to do," she caroled as she walked away, "Goodbye Master Oakenshield!"
She kept her long-legged strides at a slow pace for less than a mile before she had caught sight of his stockier figure stomping up behind her. Mithrellas had been singing to herself while she wandered along; partly so he could be sure to find her. She smiled to herself for a moment before merrily calling over her shoulder with tittering laughter.
